metanoia

I sat down on the shore, heaving a sigh. She wasn’t there. My mind was playing tricks on me again- creating a perfect mirage of her blowing hair, her legs crouched on the sand, her hands feeling the flow of the water.

The waves soaked the ends of my shoes. Getting up, brushing the sand off my pants aggressively and heading back in anger is what I would’ve done two years ago.

I had accepted my fate. The trifling waves hit the shores, desperately grabbing the sand along with them– distorting the line between the water and the sand. I was one of those waves- like the million others, living a mediocre life- imparted as a commoner, reaching out for the lowly cash grab, as the water did to the sand. I could go on complaining about my dreadful life, but then again, it was tiresome- I had accepted my fate. Maybe it wasn’t that deep. Maybe the waves were just pretty like that.

Pretty like her. 

It was definitely her. The waves, the sea, everything– it was all a part of her. She would soon come back, and I could spend all my time with her.

No, wait. 

I had accepted my fate. 

She’s gone.

“Hey, come back,” I heard as I picked up the call, “everybody’s waiting for you.”

I didn’t hum back a response.

“Why don’t you just leave this place and shift to the shore if the sea fascinates you so much?”

~~~

“Why don’t you just leave the school and shift to the shore if the sea fascinates you so much?” I kicked a distinguishably shiny pebble aside, dabbing the sweat off my forehead. Probably should’ve picked it up and kept it in my pocket.

She smiled, accustomed to my rude behaviour, “What if I stop cherishing it?”

“Nothing to cherish about here though.”

But so she did, and the noon turned to eve.

“The sunset.”

“I can see that.”

Taking off her shoes, she placed her feet in the water, digging into the soft sand.

“Don’t do that, the water’s cold– you’ll get sick!” I warned her.

She didn’t seem to mind that.

“If I was to leave soon,”

No. Don’t talk. I don’t want to hear it again.

“Would you wait for me?”

Shut up.

“Would you wait for me by this shore? I think I’ll be here.”

“What if we don’t talk after all those years?” The tears brimmed up again as I completed my question.

“Then that’s what God wants.” She smiled. It wasn’t a painful smile. It was her characteristic stoic smile, her unique charm. “If God wishes, we meet again. If God wishes-”

“Stop. Just… let’s not talk about all this.”

“You’ll come to accept your fate.”

No, I won’t.

~

“Thank you for yesterday.” She sat beside me, organising my desk, an utter mess I couldn’t be bothered less to clean up. “It’s such a long drive to the shore, yet you took me there. I could’ve taken the bus and gone there myself, you know.”

Anything to keep her near me for as long as possible.

“You don’t have a licence, though, do you?” She steered in closer, “Don’t lie to me!”

“Yeah, I don’t.” I replied sheepishly, “But I drive pretty good, don’t I?”

She smiled in approval, correcting the plaids of her skirt.

We continued on with the class, scribbling in our books, a pretty useless utilisation of time if you ask me.

“Tomorrow’s my last day.” She murmured casually.

There. It felt exactly like what it would if a bomb were to be dropped in a mundane city.

And so came tomorrow, and I couldn’t manage to look her straight in the face without sobbing. As dusk approached, I did so, cherishing every last look of her, as she continued to smile, overseeing the cityscape. For once, I wished the ugly colour of the sky never left. I wished we never walked down the hill, back into the city. But so we did.

And thereafter came the day of the departure. I was too sick to see her go.

~~~

I couldn’t believe I was admitting this. I hadn’t accepted my fate. 

I could never. No matter how much I try, God’s plan for me wouldn’t work out. I needed her back in my life.

Couldn’t God do that? So many people out there, couldn’t God spare me?

I'm done waiting. If she won’t come back, I’ll go looking for her.

The waves extended further, completely drenching the soles of my shoes.

“The water’s too cold– you’ll get sick.”

Another stupid hallucination. Maybe I was crazy.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder.

It’s getting too real. Maybe I should see a psychiatrist.

“Why are you ignoring me like that?”